Once Upon a Stormy Night (3 page)

Before the sun came up again, he would know. He would coax all her secrets, all the answers, out of her. Simmi Moyer tickled his curious side more than any woman he’d ever met—could she be the one he’d been waiting for?

He glanced down, into her eyes. The dark depths shimmered.

“Do I scare you?”

She shook her head.

“Good.” He took a step back. “Do you want a drink?”

She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. Damn—what would that feel like along his skin, on his cock?

“That’s…not what I’m here for.”

Lars drew closer and peered at her. “What are you here for?”

He wanted her to say the words, to validate the reason for their encounter. Everything she said would clue him in to the real woman at the heart of her, to what she wanted both for the night and after. She ignited something in him, a fire that hadn’t burned in a long time, a blaze not only fueling his physical desire but also his whole being’s need for someone else. For her.

“I…I’m here for you.”

The words came out of the mouth of a soft, demure, and delicate creature—a far cry from the formidable adversary she could be across a corporate boardroom table.

He watched the naked emotions flicker on her face, the longing in her eyes, the worry that maybe, she’d gone too far, in the way she bit her lip. Right then, he knew Madame Eve had pegged her down just right—Simmi lived as a lonely princess inside a gilded tower, far from any human touch or affection.

A man treated a princess with deference and respect—he showed her love and everything good, while sheltering her from the bad and the ugly. And when the woman in question also looked like she had a stick up her arse, he made her loosen up, made her throw her every caution and reserve to the wind, made her lose all control and give herself to him.

Lars brought a hand up and cradled her jaw. Her skin felt smooth and cool under his palm. She opened her mouth to suck in a breath, and he rubbed the pad of his thumb against her full lower lip.

No lipstick, no gloss. Just her.

She glanced up at him. Her soulful gaze said she expected him to kiss her.

Not yet
. He pressed his palm a little harder against her cheek. “I’m here for you as well,” he told her. “Trust me?”

She gave a soft nod.

He smiled. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Trust me. Don’t open them until I tell you to.”

Should she? Caution and apprehension battled inside Simmi.

Madame Eve wouldn’t have sent her to a psycho, would she? The woman vetted every one of her clients, so the big man must’ve passed the test.

Trust. That’s what it came down to. She’d signed up for a tryst with a stranger, except, instead of walking into a club and grabbing a fellow, she’d preferred to have a trusted party arrange the meeting for her.

“If, at any moment, anything I do feels off or wrong, just tell me to stop, and I will. I give you my word.”

He spoke in a deep, masculine growl with a faint, clipped accent. His warm, strong hand still lay against her cheek, cradled her jawbone, and she melted at the gentleness in the touch, the tenderness in the way he brushed the pad of his thumb along her cheekbone.

Simmi looked into his deep-set, ink-blue irises. She saw concern there, his plea that she give in to him, the certainty he’d take good care of her. What else had she signed up for, except for a man to look after her for the night?

Without looking away from him, she closed her eyes.

His warm hand left her cheek, and she jumped a little when she felt a fleeting touch at her ankle.

“What are you doing?”

“Shhh,” he coaxed in a smiling tone.

His touch soft and delicate, he worked the thin straps of her sandals out of the buckles. She started to move one foot down, when he closed a hand around her ankle and stopped her.

He bunched the hem of her gypsy skirt in one hand and trailed the fingers of his free hand up her leg, one inch at a time. Tingles of pleasure mixed with surprise skittered up her limbs, and she gasped. What would he end up doing to her?

Her skirt had ridden up to knee-level now. The air-conditioned cool inside the villa teased the skin of her inner thighs. Simmi closed her eyes even tighter. She prayed she wouldn’t break out in goose bumps. She didn’t have spectacular thighs. The anti-cellulite balm on which she dropped a fortune every time she went through the airport’s duty-free shops kept the lumps and bumps at bay, but goose bumps would undo all her painstaking work.

And then something warm and moist touched the skin just above her anklebone. All notion of dimpled thigh appearance shattered upon the sensation of his soft lips on her skin. When he moved up and traced his tongue along the path, her knees grew weak. She snaked a hand out and grabbed his shoulder to keep her balance.

She felt his smile against her knee. Little by little, the skirt crept farther and farther up, until her legs were bare. He moved his head, and the ticklish rasp of his beard scraped along the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh as he kissed his way up, up, to…

Oh my God
! He wouldn’t go down on her right there, would he?

As if he heard the question, he pushed her bunched-up skirt away and pressed it into the small of her back as he tightened a steel-like arm around her.

All muscle—she’d been right. Goodness, would his whole body be as hard, too?

Unbidden, a rush of hot moisture shot through her core and moistened her knickers, at the same time his nose brushed against the lacy fabric.

Heat crept up her face and stung her cheeks.
Oh, the shame
. Now he knew she wanted him, that she craved sex, anything erotic, with him.

She didn’t have more time to linger with mortification, because with his free hand, he pulled the edge of the panty away, and placed a kiss on her there.

Her feet in the unfastened shoes wobbled. He tightened his arm around her, kept her in place. Thank goodness because she had no clue how she could keep on standing otherwise.

With his index finger, he kept the lace to the side. A cool breeze danced along her hot core, replaced seconds later by more warmth as his mouth closed on her pussy. He darted his tongue out to tease her clit then lapped at her sex, before he came back to suck her tightened clitoris again.

Time and everything around them stopped existing from that moment on. As he expertly worked his tongue against her throbbing clit, her legs wobbled, ready to buckle the next time he sucked the nub into his mouth and rolled it between his teeth.

She suspended caution and apprehension on a peg somewhere on the edges of her conscious mind, to plunge into the world of sensation and pleasure he called forth. A world where he pulled her with each stroke of his tongue, each brush of his fingers, each nip from his teeth, each kiss from his lips.

When her orgasm came, the rapture shattered her unlike any other fulfillment she’d ever felt in her life. True, she hadn’t been with a lover so, but expertise accounted for just so much of the whole deal, didn’t it? The man with her tonight called forth something else from inside her. He made her feel safe, even as he fired her blood and made her knees go weak at the prospect of having his hard, hulking body over hers. Driving into her. Taking her to new heights of sensation.

On a blink, she realized she did, in fact, trust him. On a deeper, subconscious level, she knew she had found a safe harbor with him.

For no more than one night…

When morning came, they would go their separate ways and never see each other again. She’d have nothing but the memory of those few hours with him, her hot, handsome stranger. Who was he? Dare she find out? Like her, he had signed up for a one-night stand, nothing more. She’d be stupid to expect more than a sexual tryst and deep, physical rapture would come from this encounter.

As her climax ebbed, he picked up a rapid pace with his tongue, his lips, his teeth, on her sensitive clit. Within seconds, a second orgasm crashed through her.

She would’ve fallen this time, slumped to the floor, but he stood with swift, fluid ease, to gather her in his arms. Cradled to his chest, still reeling from the dizzying spin of pleasure, she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him carry her into another room.

“Open your eyes,” he said.

Simmi forced the pleasure-heavy lids open, and stared at the big white bed that sat like a throne inside the airy bedroom.

He chuckled, the laugh rumbling from his chest. He had a beautiful smile.

“The night has just begun,
älskling
.”

Chapter Three

She looked even more beautiful when pleasure radiated from her features. The softness of fulfillment transformed her eyes into bottomless waters that promised the most sensual oblivion. Her parted lips begged for kisses. With her still in his arms, he bent his head and touched his mouth to hers.

She opened under him—warm, soft, pliant. The first brush of her lips against his was tentative, shy, almost innocent. Fire surged inside him at the gentle contact and made him crave even more to bring bliss and solace into her world.

Lars deposited her on the bed. She snaked her arms over his shoulders, threaded her fingers into his hair, and tugged him closer. She opened her mouth, and the tip of her tongue swiped along the seam of his lips. He parted them, let her take control of the kiss. A soft moan drifted from deep in her throat, the sound an aphrodisiac adding to his already potent desire for her. Damn it—he had to have her.

He reached for her wrists, peeled her arms away from him, and broke the kiss. She protested with a low groan, and he smiled in the face of her obvious frustration. He’d bet she didn’t know the meaning of slow and easy. Tonight, he’d show her how good it could be to linger a little.

Her eyes flew open, and she ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip. His jeans grew tighter, and he squirmed. Right then, Simmi wore the hooded gaze and half-smile of a woman bent on bringing a man total sensual annihilation, a seductress out to lure him senseless.

“I want to kiss you,” she said. “All of you.”

Could his jeans get any tighter? He winced.
Yes, they can
. What did she do to him?

“Take off your clothes,” she added in a sultry command.

The need to keep his eyes on her swept over him, strong and overriding. She blinked, and he caught the way she worried the inside of her lower lip with her teeth.

Not a temptress by nature—she wanted control, needed it to feel safe, probably.

He would give her safety. Without taking his eyes off her, he tugged his T-shirt over his head and dropped the garment onto the floor. His jeans and boxer shorts joined the soft jersey a few seconds later.

Simmi hitched in a breath. Lars stood still, to allow her to drink her fill of his nakedness. He didn’t like to boast or brag, but he’d grown into a big man, proportionate everywhere. The evidence of his desire for her stood hard and proud against his belly, and she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from there.

He took a step toward the bed, placed a bent knee on the edge of the mattress.

“You’re still clothed,” he said in a low growl. “Not fair.”

With slow, measured movements, he undid the tie that fastened her skirt at her waist. Then, with a sharp tug, he ripped the garment off. Her long, slender legs were revealed, but the lace of her knickers hid under the fabric of her blouse. One by one, he unfastened the pearl buttons on the front then pushed the lightweight silk off her shoulders.

Black lace with red satin—she knew how to visually stimulate a man. His loins tightened at the picture of wanton abandon she presented on the white duvet.

Lars crept up on the bed, to sit on his knees beside her. She reached out, slow and hesitant, her fingers grazing his hard cock, before she closed her hand around his member.

The breath hissed out of him at the silky contact. Her touch flowed over him in fleeting, delicate brushes, not at all like that of an experienced mistress. He doubted she could still be a virgin, but maybe she hadn’t had many sexual partners. The way she stroked him spoke of reverence and awe, a wonder none but first-time lovers displayed. He couldn’t help but relish his subtle satisfaction at her perusal. Had she enjoyed it this much when he had sought her core out just a few moments ago? He’d loved discovering every inch of her legs, every fold of her warm and wet pussy.

Would Simmi feel the same if he allowed her to explore his body?

He wrapped a hand around hers on his cock. She froze and looked up into his face.

“You don’t want me to touch you?” she asked in a small voice.

Lars lay back on the mattress, still keeping her hand in place. When his back pressed into the fluffy pillows, he released her and splayed his arms wide on the bed. His surrender, to her.

“I want you to do anything you want to me,” he said.

Her fingers closed tighter around his erection.

“But do something for me first.”

“What?” she breathed out, and licked her lower lip.

Damn her
! “I need you naked. Nothing between us.”

She released him and snaked her arms to the back of her bra. After ditching the lacy scrap, she peeled the knickers from her legs.

Without a stitch of clothing on, she struck him as even more beautiful. Everything about her—the rounded curve of her small breasts, the lush flare of her hips, the subtle layer of flesh on her belly and hipbones—awakened his desire with a desperate, rapid flare he’d never experienced before. Simmi beckoned like an intoxicating drug, one he’d need forever, a fix he couldn’t and wouldn’t deny in any form he could get.

And he had her for just one night.

Not if he could help it…

She trailed a hand down his chest. Goose bumps erupted on his arms, and his nipples tightened under the subtle sensory assault. She stopped on the crease between his hip and his thigh, inches away from his sensitive balls. He closed his eyes for a second and squared his jaw—did she have any idea what she did to him?